


Gifts

by Luckyhai5



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crowley and Feelings, F/M, courting, inappropriate gifts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-19 10:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4742867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luckyhai5/pseuds/Luckyhai5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place during some ~~ambiguous hunting time~~<br/>Request: okay so could you write one where Crowley has a crush on you and he tries to ask you out but ends up being really dark and disturbing by accident but like, oddly charming? like maybe he gives you soe really weird gifts or something???<br/>(anon)</p><p>Bad language and lightly gruesome</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> Requests welcome on my blog, luckyhai57.tumblr.com  
> Thank you for reading! Feedback always appreciated ^_^

You sighed, flopping into a chair and running a hand through your hair. it had been a long day of chasing vampires with the Winchesters, and you were done. In the end, you'd beheaded the lot of them, but there were a lot of stairs in this town. Slowly, you worked off your boots, considering - briefly - whether a cup of coffee would warrant the exertion of movement. It did not. You could already feel your eyelids dragging shut, when the sound of someone clearing their throat behind you made you jump three feet in the air, whirling around and grabbing your knife from the motel table.

A familiar, black-suited man stood before you. You'd had dealings with the King of hell before, through the Winchesters, and something about him was deeply unnerving. It was like he was watching you, all the time, and while he wasn't friendly with Sam or Dean, he was neither nice nor nasty to you. He was dismissive; most of the time he acted like you didn't exist or treated you with the cordial disdain with which he treated everyone, yet he was more polite.

"Evening, pet," he smirked, "Did I scare you?"

"Crowley, what do you want?" You asked, sitting back down because, screw it. "I've had a very long day."

"Hmmn? Do tell." His dark eyes sparkled, displaying in that one moment more emotion than he had ever directed at you before.

Frowning slightly, you explained, "Vampire nest. They're like wasps or something, just unbearable. Horrible. If I could live in a world without vampires or wasps, I'd be the happiest woman alive." Crowley was smiling now, smiling like he had a plan. Bemused by his reaction, you continued, "But why are you even here?"

"Research, Y/N, research." He said cryptically, before he was gone, leaving you alone in your motel room.

Groaning, you got up and collapsed onto your bed. You were too tired to even think about whatever that was.

* * *

 It was a few days later when the King of Hell appeared to you again. This time it was planned - you and the Winchesters were summoning him, ensnaring him in a devil's trap to weed information out of him. He was less than cooperative, eventually serving up the ultimatum, "I'll help you if you'll let me speak with Y/N. Alone." The boys hadn't liked the idea one bit, but had eventually capitulated when you told them you didn't mind. He had no reason to hurt you, after all.

True to his word - as ever - Crowley had provided the information you sought, before the Winchesters had begrudgingly left the room.

"I'm warning you, pal," Dean growled on the way out, shooting daggers at the demon, who snorted in response.

"Y/N, we're just outside, shout if you need us," Sam had reassured you, and then they were both gone, and it was just you and Crowley.

"So?" You asked, walking to the edge of the devil's trap.

Crowley cleared his throat, producing a jar. He wasn't making eye contact, looking at the floor for a good moment before his eyes met yours. He held the jar out.

"This is for you."

You frowned, reaching over the edge of the trap - despite your better judgement - to take the jar. When you saw what it contained, you spluttered, "What the Hell is this, Crowley?"

He looked slightly confused, "It's a jar full of wasps."

"I can see that," you stared into his eyes, trying to work out if he'd cracked or something, "I'm just not sure why, exactly, you just handed me, erm, a jar of wasps?"

He looked about almost shiftily, and you wondered what was wrong with him.

"Well, the other day, you said you hated them. This is more a token, than anything else. By tomorrow, there won't be any wasps left, in the world."

"What?" You screeched, "What do you mean, no more wasps?"

He frowned, "I'm getting rid of them. I thought it was what you wanted."

"Well, uh, yes, I suppose, but, no - Crowley, that seems like a very bad idea. Thank you for the thought, and all, but I don't think you should do that..."

"I see." His dark eyes went cold, flat, as all light left them. "Would you let me go now?"

Mutely, you nodded, kicking a line in the chalk. He disappeared instantly.

As you left the room, Sam asked, "What was that all about?"

You pressed the jar of wasps into his hands.

"I don't want to talk about it."

* * *

 A few weeks later, you were sort of dreading seeing Crowley again, after your last weird encounter. The boys were working a case with him and insisted they needed your help on the job. As you approached the diner where you would meet the three of them, you felt the unsettling sensation of butterflies in your stomach, but quickly dismissed it. You had no reason to feel nervous.

You could see where the four of them were sat, Crowley with his back to you, the boys opposite him. As they saw you approach, the Winchesters both waved and smiled, causing Crowley to turn around, his eyes catching yours as a familiar smirk spread over his features. Your stomach did another flip - again, you dismissed it as you tore your eyes from his and smiled back at Sam and Dean.

Sliding into the seat beside him, you asked, "So what's so bad that you had to drag me all the way out here?"

Sam and Dean eyed each other sheepishly, and you already knew, you just  _knew_ , that whatever they said was going to piss you off.

"Crowley wouldn't work with us unless we brought you." Sam answered you, as Dean glowered at the demon, who simply chuckled.

"Well, you can't expect me to work alone with these two nitwits, can you?"

Despite yourself, you grinned, "Obviously."

At that point, the server came over and abruptly asked you, "You just going to sit there, ma'am? Or do you want to order something?"

You smiled politely at him; he was just a kid, and probably underpaid, and working with the public was tough, so an attitude wasn't something you took issue with,"Yeah, I'll have a coffee and a slice of pie, thanks." You answered.

He raised an eyebrow, "You sure about that? You look like you could use the coffee, but maybe lay off the pie, sweetheart." Then he walked back to the counter as you giggled.

"Wow, what great customer service skills."

Brushing it off, you began to discuss the case with Sam and Dean, occasionally noticing the way Crowley's eyes followed the server around the diner, semi-murderously.

* * *

 

You were driving home from the case you'd worked with the boys and Crowley when the appearance of the demon in your passenger seat nearly made you swerve off the road and into a tree.

"Crowley! Don't do that!" You chided him, as your heartbeat slowed to a reasonable pace.

You could _feel_ him smirking beside you, "Sorry love. Care to pull over?"

Reluctantly, you did as he asked, pulling over to the side of the road and turning to eye him warily.

He produced a wooden box from his jacket pocket.

"This is for you."

Curiously, you took it. It was quite heavy, and ornate, carved with patterns of flowers. Overcome by your curiosity, you opened it. When you saw what was inside you all-out shrieked, dropping the box, your face paling considerably.

"Crowley, what the fuck is that?!"

He frowned as though he didn't understand your utter horror.

"It's the tongue of the server who insulted you."

Reaching to the floor to pick up the box - thankfully the contents hadn't fallen out - you slammed it shut, pushing it back into Crowley's grasp.

"Why would you do that, Crowley? Can you fix him?"

Now he looked really confused, "I could."

"Go and give his tongue back, then! You can't just cut out people's tongues - what even - Crowley...?"

You trailed off, noting that again, the light had left his eyes totally, leaving black pits behind.

"Okay," was all he said before he was gone. You just hoped he gave that poor kid his tongue back.

Shaking your head, you started driving again. No wonder demons were so weird, if he was their King.

* * *

 You were sleeping under a blanket, spread over the backseat of your car, when the sound of someone clearing their throat from the driver's seat made you reach for your gun instantly, groggily yelling something incomprehensible. When you saw who it was, you flopped back down again, exhausted.

"What is it, Crowley?"

"I want to talk to you."

Sighing, you sat up, pulling the blanket close around your shoulders. In an instant, he was sat beside you, a box in his hands. You eyed him very suspiciously.

"What is that?"

"It's for you."

"Hmmn," you hummed sceptically, "It's not a part of someone, is it?"

He grinned then, shaking his head, "No. I know you rejected the last two gifts, but I hope you accept this one."

You raised an eyebrow, "Okay then..." Reaching out, you took the box, and when you opened it, you gasped in delight.

"Crowley... What is this?" 

"A demon-hunting knife, like the one the Winchesters own."

The hilt of the blade was encrusted in gems, shimmering in the starlight, the blade itself engraved with what looked like runes, but more rounded, swirling along its length. You turned to the demon sat next to you, eyes wide in wonder, and noticed that his eyes were shining too.

"Thank you," You murmured, as he continued to grin.

"So you accept this gift?"

"Of course."

With that, his lips were on yours, roughly claiming you as one of his hands went to your waist. Before you knew what you were doing, you were kissing him back, humming at the taste of whisky and the way his hands moved over your hips, and the way his tongue felt against yours.

After a long moment, you both broke away. You were gasping for breath, as his eyes stared into yours, captivating you, "Y/N."

He way he breathed your name stoked a fire behind your eyes, and you saw him notice, saw his pupils widen as he grinned again.

Leaning in, he pressed one soft kiss to your lips, saying against your ear, "I'll be back to see you soon, love."

Then he was gone, leaving you with a beautiful knife, a rattling heart and an ache in your stomach.


End file.
